Sally
by gryffindormischief
Summary: Harry Potter doesn't go looking for trouble, but it seems to find him without fail.


A/N: The title is intentional, hit me if you figure out why (props if you don't google it) got a hilarious prompt and took a study break to write it. Hope you enjoy the funny

* * *

By the time Bill, Fleur, and brand new baby Victoire announce their impending Burrow debut, it feels as though the whole first Weasley grandchild process has lasted a lifetime.

In reality, it wasn't more than a year and a half, and Harry was more than happy to have something _pleasant _consuming so much of his free time.

There were countless baby showers, family dinners, shopping trips where Harry acted as Ginny's lifeline, and more than a few marriage and baby soaked 'conversations' with Molly. The latter of which mostly involved longing looks and sighs. Which is a lot, considering the fact that Ginny's not long out of Hogwarts, Harry's living in Grimmauld, and he's pretty sure if they _did _announce a marriage and baby, Molly would explode.

In fact, yesterday, when Molly interrupted with a long list of tidying chores in the midst of the third round of a 'best two out of three' seeking contest, Ginny's grumbles turned to an oddly elaborate ruse to convince Molly that they had in fact taken her dreams to heart. While they weeded the vegetable garden, Harry managed to talk Ginny out of setting her plan in motion and later passed an entire evening with Ginny in the woods behind the Burrow. An entire, private and altogether lovely evening.

This morning, Harry preemptively trimmed the bushes, trees, and whatnot that surrounded the home into some sort of order, rounding up gnomes as they wandered into view. He finished up around eleven, just as the summer afternoon was turning heated and decided he'd earned a bit of an indulgent shower.

Which, in his mind, generally includes copious amounts of soap, heated water, and perhaps some yodel-like singing if he feels the urge. And he'd be remiss if he didn't include Ginny in the whole scenario. Because whether he intends or not, Harry's mind often wanders to his girlfriend when given the chance. Sometimes, it's in the way that would probably earn him a few choice words from Ron, other times it's all flowery daydreams about sunlit vows and picket fences.

Still, however realistic his imagination's conjurings have been in the past, he's never been utterly convinced that a fully dressed Ginny Weasley has leapt into his shower and smothered both his and her own mouths with her palms.

Until today.

Her fingers slip from her own lips first as she hisses, "Don't say a _word_."

Harry grabs her wrist and frees his mouth. "I have so very many questions."

Ginny darts her eyes to the door - shower curtain really - and then scowls at him. "Not. A. Word."

"Sorry, but I must be a good host and welcome you to the shower."

Shoving her damp hair from her eyes, Ginny sighs. "Sorry, but am I the only one who's noticed Mum has gone _batty _with baby brain?"

"I uh- "

"She's actually swabbing the wireless, as we speak," Ginny whispers, brown eyes wide.

Brown eyes which widen further when they dart down Harry's chest, and further.

Flushing, he does his best deflecting work. "So I get the hiding in the bathroom bit, but didn't you hear the shower?"

"I panicked!" Ginny yelps, hands flitting toward him before clenching at her sides.

"Why not just hide in the bathroom rather than jump in here fully clothed?"

"Should I be insulted that you're this coherent while I'm this close to your bare man-"

Harry takes this opportunity to return the silencing courtesy of palms favor. "Could you not - I think the only reason I'm not exploding right now is complete and utter avoidance of reality."

Ginny's no doubt cheeky rejoinder is cut off by a knock at the door - judging by the thudding pattern, Harry'd guess one Ronald Weasley.

Beneath the ever cooling shower spray, Harry and Ginny blink at each other in a momentary panic until Harry hisses, "Which one of us should answer?"

A question which is answered by the member of their little tableau who is _outside _the shower. "Harry? I think Mum really has gone barmy - she insists Gin-Gin's in there - "

Whatever Ron says next is lost to the shower dwellers as they partake in a silent conversation mostly involving Ginny baring her teeth and Harry begging her not to out their accidental watery tryst because of an obnoxious nickname.

Eventually, he uses what Ginny's termed his 'sexy Auror glare' to distract her and answers, "She tried - " he falters when Ginny's seeking fingers confirm his special glare does in fact work, but eventually plows ahead, "She tried but I sent her away."

A grunt sounds from beyond the door. "You better have."

Ginny pauses with her finger lingering on Harry's collarbone and rolls her eyes, which Harry secretly calls her 'sexy sassmaster face.' The Weasley family seems intent on preventing his attempt at relaxing ablutions. "I would really _love _to have a shower."

Ron harrumphs. "Well excuse _me_. Maybe next time don't go around flashing your willy at my sister."

As if Ron had somehow commanded by his suggestion, Harry and Ginny look down at his 'willy' in unison, which ends up being an oddly clinical experience. Harry's _really _hoping he's about to wake up from this dream which will bother him for a few days, because Hermione's currently _fascinated _by the psychology of dreams and likes to share her thoughts, and then his life will return to normal.

But then, Ginny glances up at him, their eyes lock, and he jolts backward like he's been shocked because he's naked and wet, Ginny's in the shower with him, and Ron's outside the door and apparently things can still get worse.

Then three things happen in quick succession - Harry's feet slip from beneath him, Ginny gets caught in the shins, and they both grab for the shower curtain in a moment of panic.

It's an almighty clatter that accompanies their fall, so dramatic in thuds that Harry can't bring himself to blame Ron for storming into the loo.

Harry can also imagine Ron's gaping expression isn't unjustified - Harry lying in the bottom of the bath like he's on a luge while Ginny's legs are splayed across the basin and consequently, Harry's middle. It would be a highly incriminating scenario if Ginny weren't luckily - or perhaps regrettably - fully clothed.

Feeling utterly incapable of doing anything to remedy the situation, Harry lifts his hands to his face and sighs in defeat while he's pelted in the face with now frigid spray from the shower.

Ginny somehow manages to stand with minimal slipping and an even more surprising level of dignity, straightening her clothes once she's dripping onto the bathmat. "Ron. You're interrupting Harry's private time. It's quite rude."

Ron' however, seems preoccupied and doesn't acknowledge Ginny's discipline. "Mate, can you cover something other than your face?"

Following Ron's line of sight, Ginny purses her lips and blinks thoughtfully, tilting her head sideways before pronouncing her verdict. "It's not bothering me."

And then as if to prove with utmost certainty that Harry's the most unlucky human in existence, Molly Weasley appears in the doorway just beyond Ron's shoulder, her expression blank. "Someone had better clean the gutters before lunch."

As Molly sniffs and disappears down the stairs, she adds, "And I only want _one _grandchild at the moment."

Harry groans, "Someone just kill me now - simple _Avada Kedavra_. Nobody can beat it _three _times."


End file.
